


Bad Day

by bepreparedf0rhell



Category: Slipknot (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Other, a little bit of badly written smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:00:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21840175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bepreparedf0rhell/pseuds/bepreparedf0rhell
Summary: In which Jim's had a bad day and you just want to make him feel better.
Relationships: Jim Root/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh... I feel really bad both mentally and physically today and for some reason my genius solution to that was to write the first smut I've written in years. It's rough and I don't know how I feel about it, but I'm trying to be better at not being quite so critical of myself, so here it is!

The second Jim walks through the door, you can tell something’s off with him. He doesn’t greet you like he normally does, barely even looks up at you. He yanks the backpack off of his back and throws it on the floor like it’s personally offended him and then kicks off his shoes so hard that both of them make solid thuds as they hit the wall. He strips out of his coat and throws it on the floor too, takes a few steps away from it, grunts, and then steps back and yanks it up and begrudgingly hangs it on the coat rack beside the door. 

You stifle a laugh at his last act of annoyance, turning your head to make sure he can’t see the expression on your face. You obviously don’t know what’s bothering him yet and you’re sorry he’s upset, but you’ve always found him comical - and downright adorable - when he’s angry. He doesn’t have a temper, doesn’t ever really even get mad at all, so it takes a lot to rile him up and the reasons are typically always valid. It’s just… since he’s not often angry, it’s almost like he doesn’t really know how to do it. Something about his tall frame, his impossibly long limbs, and his full beard just makes the little temper tantrums he throws so goddamn funny. 

“Don’t fuckin’ laugh at me,” he grumbles, shaking his head and raising his green eyes to you for the first time.

“I’m not,” you assure him, sobering at his words and swallowing hard to steady out your expression. 

He studies you with fire in his eyes for a few long moments before seemingly deciding that you’re telling the truth and stalking through the living room and into the kitchen. You hear him banging around and then the microwave whirs to life. It cycles for a few minutes and he comes back into the living room with a steaming bowl of leftover Chinese takeout. He sits beside you on the couch heavily and you can’t quite tell whether he wants you to talk to him or not.

As if to answer the question in your thoughts, he reaches onto the coffee table in front of him and manhandles the television remote until sound booms to life on the TV across the room. He surfs through channels for a moment before settling on some home renovation show that you know he doesn’t have any interest in actually watching. 

“James…” you trail off gently, hoping the usage of his full name might direct his attention towards you a little bit easier. Sure enough, his eyes do shift to you and he sighs. As soon as his gaze connects with yours, suddenly it’s clear just exactly what he wants, why his food is still sitting untouched on the table and why he’s turned the volume on the TV so low that he surely can’t even really hear it. 

“Baby,” you whisper, knowing that even though he’d never admit it out loud, pet names tend to make him go just a little bit mushy. You see his jaw tense, know he’s going to try and play hard to get. You don’t mind. If he wants to play, if that’s what’ll make him feel better, you’ll play. 

You reach for him, caressing the edge of his beard in a way you know he likes. When he’s not in a mood, the motion almost makes him purr right into your hand. You can tell he’s trying to force himself not to react, but you don’t miss the way his eyes flutter closed before he can stop them. You twist a tendril of his long facial hair around your finger, letting it go and watching as it flips back into place. 

“I was so lonely here all day without you,” you tell him in your best attempt at a sensual tone. You feel a little dumb, aren’t really at all confident in the effectiveness of what you’re trying to do, but it seems to still be working on Jim nonetheles, which is all that really matters. He raises an eyebrow and cocks his head to the side. Lust seems to be almost leaking out his goddamn ears and it makes you feel a pang deep in your own belly. 

“I missed you too,” he tells you, his voice choked and gruff, like he still doesn’t particularly want to talk. That’s fine too. He doesn't need to talk. Neither of you will in a second. 

“What do you want?” you ask simply, the pang in your belly fully developing into a knot when he swallows hard at your question, clearly already failing at the whole ‘hard to get’ thing. 

He doesn’t respond with words. Instead, he crashes his lips onto yours, pulling you close. He kisses you hard and fast, his tongue working its way into your mouth like it belongs there, which if you really think about it, it kind of does. His hands run down your back and you can feel scratches developing even through your t-shirt. You groan into his mouth at the development and it only makes him shove his hands roughly under your shirt so that he can do it harder. 

You break the kiss just long enough to yank your shirt over your head to eliminate it from the equation completely. Jim bites his way down your neck and you can almost feel the bruises developing on the spot. You lean up and into him, throwing your head back to give him a better angle. He takes the encouragement immediately, going down the other side of your neck and down the angle of your collarbone. 

You clutch his shoulders so hard you’re sure you’re drawing blood as he continues to explore your chest and down your stomach with his teeth. When he seems satisfied with his work, his raises his head back up to your lips and kisses you again, with even more passion and fury than the first time. 

You break the kiss once more with a mission of your own in mind and immediately set out in the direction of accomplishing that goal. Jim watches you intently as you yank his own shirt up and off of him. You run a hand down his bare chest, stopping to get a good feel of the soft hair just below his belly button. 

Though you’ve not touched it yet, not even looked down to check, you know he’s about to bust out of his zipper. You’re sure of it and are smugly satisfied when you do chance a glance downward to see the pronounced shape of his cock in his jeans. 

“What do you want, baby?” you ask again, and this time he has an answer on the tip of his tongue ready to pour from his lips like he’d been waiting for you to ask again.

“ _You,_ ” he all but growls, and you know the simplicity of his statement means that no matter how shitty of a mood he’s in, he’s still leaving it up to you to decide what exactly is going to happen. You think about it for a split second and then reach for his zipper. 

Clearly impatient, he doesn’t let you do much of the work of getting his jeans and underwear down and off his ankles. He kicks them to the side hastily and you can’t help but take a second to admire him. He’s fucking beautiful. He doesn’t like to be told so, doesn’t believe it himself, but he is. With his long limbs and torso, tattoos, and just the right amount of thick muscle tone in all the right places, he’s probably one of the most gorgeous people you’ve ever laid eyes on. 

Your brain goes a bit to mush as you stare at him and all you want to do is compliment him, to touch him softly and just try and make him feel better, feel your love. You know that’s not what he wants, though. His eyes are hungry, desperate, and all it takes is a glance down at his waiting cock to switch your attention back to where you know he’d prefer it to be. 

You push him roughly back against the back of the couch, kissing his lips one more time before trailing kisses down his neck, stomach, and chest. He mumbles encouragements as you go and you can’t help but smile slightly to yourself both in satisfaction and at the fact that even blinded by lust he can’t help but make sure you know he thinks you’re doing a good job.

His legs stretch out in front of him and he shoves the coffee table away slightly with his feet so that it’s not in your way. Clearly he’s guessed what your plan is, and you slip between his knees on the floor and look up at him with a devilish grin. 

You kiss along the angles of his hip bones, reveling in it when he shifts uncomfortably, clearly ready for your next step. You can feel his cock twitch next to your head and when you look at it, it’s already slicked down with precum and waiting impatiently for you. 

In the next second, you take it into your mouth completely, letting the head hit your gag reflex just enough that he knows he’s filling you up. He groans loudly and ruts up against you, a small _‘oh, fuck’_ slipping out of his mouth in a heavy breath. 

You work him over to the best of your ability, tossing in all the little things you know he likes. He’s moaning loudly, unabashedly, and you feel yourself getting ridiculously worked up just at the prospect of making him feel so good. You’re taking him apart one piece at a time and you can feel him getting closer to where he seems to so desperately need to be. 

“Oh god, I’m…” he mumbles a while later, cutting himself off with a loud gasp as he unravels completely, the explosion of his orgasm wracking his body. You take everything he has to give, swallowing it as you watch his face contort with pleasure and release. You help him back down, your mouth still gently on him. 

He sighs heavily, his head falling back against the back of the couch like he can’t possibly hold it himself up for a second longer. You smile around his cock, slipping it out of your mouth slowly and letting it fall against his stomach. He shivers as you kiss up the length of it and then back up his stomach, chest, and neck. 

Your lips find his and he kisses you languidly, the complete opposite of before. You melt into him and just soak it up, kissing him lazily as your hands roam around his arms and stomach, finally landing on gently knotting themselves into his soft waves of hair. 

“Are you done with your temper tantrum now?” you whisper as you nuzzle into his neck a few moments later. You hear him laugh quietly as his arms wrap around you. 

“Not quite,” he tells you, making you laugh as he tackles you backwards onto the couch. He grinds his still-bare crotch into your still-clothed one, making you let out a breathy gasp of your own. “I’ve got a few things I still need to do, though I’m not quite sure whether you’ll consider them a tantrum or not,” he says, and you shrug. 

“Well, you’ll never know unless you try,” you say, and he laughs as he leans down to kiss you again.

**Author's Note:**

> wheresyoursavior.tumblr.com


End file.
